


Untitled

by brokencasbutt67



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a sad ending, Car Accidents, Drunk Driving, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Fallen Angels, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pain, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokencasbutt67/pseuds/brokencasbutt67
Summary: So this is based off the song & video of the same name by Simple Plan and if Grammarly tells me to remove commas and add hyphens one more time I will lose my shit. I depressed myself writing this.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

Being human was such a weird feeling for both Aziraphale and Crowley. They went from having an infinite number of days to having - well, a numbered amount. Aziraphale adapted rather well, as though he prefers to be human. Crowley didn’t adapt so well though, it was the minor miracles that he missed. Aziraphale was Crowley’s rock during the transition between demon and human. 

It was the middle of the night, sometime in the March of the year after Armageddon and the trials when Crowley realized just how supportive Aziraphale had been while going through the exact same trauma that Crowley was going through. A storm was raging outside, Crowley couldn’t mess with gravity, and so, he couldn’t sleep on the ceiling as he usually would. Aziraphale was snoring away beside him, and for the first time in a long time, Crowley felt content. He didn’t know how things ended up how they did, being human, having  _ feelings _ . 

Pain was the immediate sensation that hit Crowley when he realized he was becoming human. Since that fateful night, all Crowley had felt was pain. No matter what he was doing, where he was, he was in pain.  _ Have humans always felt this pain? It’s an all encompassing ache physically, mentally and emotionally he’s in pain. He can’t run from it, he can’t hide from the pain now that he’s human, as a demon, he could just flick it away like a cigarette butt. It just lingers there, in the dark corners of his mind and body, waiting for him. On such nights as these, when the pain is so overwhelming he just wants to run, time is an endless expanse of torment. _

Aziraphale was snoring away beside him, and Crowley was certain that it was the only thing keeping him powering on. He wanted to scream, to shout, anything to make the pain stop. He knew he made his mistakes, long ago in the Garden of Eden, but how Crowley was praying for the pain to end was something that he would never admit to, not publicly. It was these nights, where the pain is so strong, he regrets everything he did, he wishes he could go back to the time when he was an angel; when his relationship with Aziraphale was accepted. 

The ring box in his chest of drawers was taunting him. It was as bad as Beelzebub, Hastur, Ligur and every other demon that would bully him over the relationship with the angel. It had been in the drawer almost as long as he and Aziraphale had shared the cottage. Moving out of London proved to be their best decision, and now, there was only one thing that Crowley knew he needed to do.

It was months before Crowley finally proposed. He and Aziraphale were dining at the Ritz, in their usual seat with their usual waiter. The box was in Crowley’s pocket, as it was every other day of the week, waiting for the perfect moment that never seemed to come. After their desserts had arrived, Crowley was watching as Aziraphale practically licked his plate clean. He fiddled with the box in his pocket for a moment, before pulling it out with a sigh. 

“I don’t know how to ask this,” he admitted. Aziraphale looked up, a drop of syrup slowly making its way down his chin. 

“Go on, dear,” Aziraphale said before wiping the syrup away. 

Crowley shifted, dropping to one knee with a thud, and then he opened the box. There was a collective gasp from the waiters, other customers, Aziraphale, Crowley himself even. He never believed he’d be able to do this. 

Aziraphale’s eyes welled up, a tear racing down his cheek, though many more unshed tears remained in his eyes. 

“I know our days are numbered, angel, but there’s no one I’d rather spend them with, but you,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale smiled widely, nodding as he shifted to kneel in front of Crowley, hugging him impossibly tightly. The ring fell between them, but that was not important. The only thing that’s important to them both right now is each other’s embrace. 

Eventually, they had to leave the Ritz, after standing up of course and paying for their food. They made their way back to the Bentley, arms swinging between them as they walked, the ring on Aziraphale’s finger shining under the moonlight. 

They began the journey back to their cottage, and Crowley drove at a normal speed for the first time in a long time, relishing in the angel’s embrace and company for the time being. 

They made their way down the motorway, the radio was on low, playing Queen as always. Miles of worn road passed under the tires of the car that really didn’t fit with the current era. Aziraphale was curled close to Crowley, somehow, cuddling the demon’s arm. 

They were too preoccupied with each other to see the lights coming towards them, a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. They didn’t realize until it was too late, and the only things Crowley could do was swerve, brake and pray to a God that never listened to him. All that Crowley could hear was the squeal of tires against the asphalt, the whimpers coming from Aziraphale and his own voice, speaking without him knowing.   
  
“I love you, so much, no matter what happens, I’m yours. I’ll make sure you’re okay, whatever happens, I love you, I’ve always loved you, I always will love you.”

Crowley leaned down and gently kissed Aziraphale. The kiss deepened as the car swerved. There was a piercing sound that filled the air, bending, crunching metal, a pained cry from Aziraphale and something that couldn’t quite be placed, though Crowley suspected it was his heart breaking as Aziraphale lost his life in Crowley’s arms, where he’d felt spent his entire life feeling safe, but like always, Crowley has failed him. This time though, this time it’s the last time, and it’s the worst mistake in Crowley’s life. 


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley felt numb. That pain that filled his life for so long? Gone. The happiness that Aziraphale would bring, easing said agony for a few short moments? Gone. He felt… nothing and he hated it. The Bentley was a write - off. He doesn’t need to be told that much. Shattered glass, the remnants of the mangled mess of what was once two cars and what could possibly be blood or motor oil fill the road, Crowley couldn’t quite tell. He was laid in the middle of the road, hoping and praying that a car would hit him and end his pitiful existence. Without Aziraphale, Crowley was nothing but a failed demon and a failed angel. He couldn’t even be a demon, the lowest of the low. How could he survive on his own? 

Eventually, a police officer arrives upon the scene, though there has been no call of an accident this severe: two mangled cars in the middle of the road, one driver in the middle of the road, sobbing to himself, another driver fast asleep snoring away in his car and a passenger who lays dead in the passenger seat of the particularly old, jet black car. She nudges the man to sit up.    


“Can you tell me your name, sir?” she asked though she was unsurprised when she got no answer. 

An ambulance arrives, and the drunk driver is arrested. The road is cleared, Aziraphale is taken somewhere, Crowley is frantic to find out where.   
“ _ The hospital down the road _ ” He wants to run there, to be by Aziraphale’s side forever, but that’s not where Aziraphale truly is. The angel is likely down in Hell now; alone without Crowley, he’ll be easy pickings for the demon’s down there. So Crowley knows what he needs to do.

It’s a long walk back to the cold, empty house. Without Aziraphale’s warmth, that’s all it is, a house, not a home. Crowley makes his way up the stairs, avoiding looking at all of the pictures of himself and Aziraphale in happier times. He makes it to their bedroom, eyes falling onto the bed with messy sheets, from their pillow fight that morning, that led to an hour of making out and cuddling. Neither knew the day would turn out like this. Crowley wants to suspect it’s nothing more than a bad dream, that he’ll wake up to Aziraphale’s concerned face above him like has happened so often before, and the angel will kiss him, and cherish him as he talks about the nightmare. Somewhere deep down though, Crowley knows that’s not true, the angel has gone, and he isn’t coming back. 

He avoids looking at the bed, it hurts too much to think of the fun he’d had only a few hours ago. The closet doors open to an empty closet, though that’s unsurprising, they only wear the same clothes anyway. He nudges the false bottom, pulling it away to find the angel’s sword, still where it remains. He doesn’t even want to drink any wine, he’s numb enough that it doesn’t hurt as he scars the angel’s name into his body, before taking one final stab at it, and falls to the floor. Somewhere, somehow, someone will know to find him here, to take him to Aziraphale so they can be together, even in Hell. 


End file.
